This page has been validated.
OUR HOUSE.
It should be yours, if I could build
The quaint old dwelling I desire,
With books and pictures bravely filled
And chairs beside an open fire
White-panelled rooms with candles lit—
I lie awake to think of it!
A dial for the sunny hours,
A garden of old-fashioned flowers—
Sav marigolds and lavender
And mignonette and fever-few,
And Judas tree and maiden-hair
And candytuft and thyme and rue—
All these for you to wander in.
A Chinese carp (called Mandarin!)
Waving a sluggish silver fin
Deep in the moat: so tame he comes
To lip your fingers offering crumbs.
Tall chimneys, like long listening ears,
White shutters, ivy green and thick,
And walls of ruddy Tudor brick
Grown mellow with the passing years.
